Because, y'see, there's this fine pair o'Irish lads who perform under the name of Men of Worth (though they joke that they have, in fact, become Men of Girth). And while they're as fine a pair o'lads as ever you'll hear, I must purge teh Eeevul of das Earwürm from mah BRANE. Because if "Roses of Prince Charlie" runs through my head one more time this morning, I may have to travel across the water mysel', find the grave o' the Pretender frae Oe'r the Water, and PISS ON IT.
I hold the Pretender more or less single-handedly responsible for setting in motion the destruction of the Highland clans and the Scouring of the Glens. Discuss.
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I'm reading Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle, and it's set around the same time. A subplot just involved the assassination of a minor Duke of the clan Macdonald in revenge of the Massacre at Glencoe.
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The surviving Highlanders were mostly divided into two groups -- those who couldn't learn from experience and spent the rest of their lives wishing for the Return of the Prince Across the Water, and those who saw him for what he was and spent the rest of their lives bitterly cursing him for the destruction of their clans, naming him a coward and traitor to Scotland.
(This is a capsule summary from memory, and not guaranteed to be accurate in precise detail.)
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And let's not get into the Campbells...
I STILL regard this whole thing as the last hurrah of the English Civil War and the Curse of Mary Queen of Scots. (Actually, the last of the Curse of Mary played out in the Russian Revolution, but that's another story...)
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"Campbells? Guid soup, laddie. -- Oh, ye didnae mean those Campbells?"
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www.bedlambards.com not as good as Heather, but they do play at teh same faire here.
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I'll burn you a copy, if you give Heather ten bucks for it next time you see her and tell her Grendel's wielder told you to. :)
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